


Game

by iscythea



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, chapter 2 spoilers, fluffangst?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-12
Updated: 2018-03-12
Packaged: 2019-03-30 10:43:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13949907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iscythea/pseuds/iscythea
Summary: Ouma ropes Saihara into a little game of truth or dare, but the detective soon finds out that games with Ouma aren't always so straightforward. Done for @flawedreverie on twitter as their Saiouma gift exchange present!





	Game

**Author's Note:**

> hi kay!
> 
> the prompt I used was "Ouma's grey morality, and Shuichi's reluctance to find the truth", and while I didn't explore the first one as much, the second one was really interesting to write! I also tried to blend fluff and angst and I hope it worked haha
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

It had started out simply enough. 

Saihara had found himself with an abundance of free time, per usual. As it turned out, being trapped in a prison school with no access to the outside world left you with a lot of time on your hands. 

He tried to tell himself he was in this situation because there were no other options. All his classmates were acting… difficult, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to devote the time or energy to dealing with it. Angie had been particularly aggressive about the “just a little bit of blood!” thing lately. Shirogane had decided Shuichi was a dead ringer for some anime character and practically threw cosplays in his face when she saw him. Kiibo had found a new song he was sure he could perfect, and Saihara’s ears (and stomach, and kidneys, and bones) weren’t sure they could take another round of robot karaoke. Iruma was Iruma… the list went on.

That’s what he told himself, at least, when he walked up to Ouma after breakfast. The dining hall seemed deserted without Toujou cutting through the room with measured grace, and the four silent, empty spots at the table seemed paradoxically loud enough that he was desperate enough to approach someone none of them wanted to approach. 

The petite leader was still a mystery to him. Saihara had found himself hanging out with Ouma a handful of times, but he only felt marginally closer to understanding the way his mind worked. It felt like Ouma’s mind was a book in an alien language- one that he was reading and trying to parse character by character.

So when Ouma had proposed a certain game, Saihara took the bait. 

“Hey, Saihara-chan! Ever heard of truth or dare?”

Saihara had looked up from the table. 

“It’s a western game! A certain secret agent of ours in a certain government introduced it to me. You wanna know what it is?”

Ouma’s eyes gleamed with excitement- excitement, and something deeper. Saihara’s pulse had quickened at the word “truth” coming from his mouth, and his reaction must have been enough for Ouma, ever-observant, to notice. 

“So… you pick truth or dare, and I come up with a question for you to answer or something weird and embarrassing for you to do.” Ouma explained, kicking his legs. “Then we switch. It’s really simple!”

Saihara’s hands clenched in his lap. He had a dreadfully foreboding feeling. This had to be some sort of trick, right? Ouma was never this straightforward. 

Visions of Ouma making him cluck like a chicken or do something even more embarrassing in front of their classmates flashed in Saihara’s mind. He could practically hear Iruma shrieking with laughter. 

But he couldn’t dismiss the offer outright. Something in the back of his head kept him from turning Ouma down like he should. 

_It’s the same thing that keeps you coming back to Ouma even when everyone else avoids him like the plague,_ a voice in his head said. 

He pretended he hadn’t heard it. 

“Sure…?” Saihara said, regretting every letter as he spoke. He felt sweat forming on the back of his neck. He should have just walked away, shook his head and ignored Ouma like everyone else. But this could be an opportunity, however unlikely, to peek behind the leader’s mask.

“Yay! Sometimes you’re not such a stick in the mud.” Ouma grinned, and Saihara felt his worries both melt away and increase. There was no malice in Ouma’s smile, but as Saihara had learned, that often didn’t mean anything. 

“Oh! I forgot. Silly me.” Ouma made a show of bopping himself on the head and sticking his tongue out. “If you refuse, you get a really gruesome punishment.”

“Wh-“ Deep breath. Reevaluate. He didn’t want to give Ouma the satisfaction of a total freakout on his part. He’d learned that much, at least. Ouma fixed him with a wide smirk, eyes like a cat sizing up a mouse. “What do you mean, punishment.”

“That’s for me to know and you to find out! Okay, pick one!”

“Uh, I’ll pick…” Performing a humiliating action or telling his deepest secrets? At least he could always lie. “I’ll do truth.”

“Awww, I had a really good dare picked out too!” Ouma put his arms behind his head. “It was gonna be super embarrassing. Don’t cry, though! I’m keeping it for later.”

_That doesn’t make me want to choose dare any more…_

“Do you think murder is ever justified?”

What?

Saihara had expected something about a first love, or something that would fluster him, or the kind of thing schoolgirls gossiped about. But this? This sent him into a mental tailspin, and he reeled silently. His pledge to not give Ouma any reinforcing reactions was forgotten entirely; Ouma broke out in a wide smile at Saihara’s expression. 

“I… I guess? If it’s self defense, or to protect someone else.” His hands reflexively grabbed for the brim of his (nonexistent) hat. “Or under certain circumstances…”

He remembered teeth clenched in utter fury. Eyes full of hate, boring holes into his very being. 

Justifiable, huh.

No! He couldn’t think like that. That mindset got his classmates killed. And Shuuichi Saihara would never- _could_ never kill anyone. Even flirting with the idea was a line that could never be crossed.

Or at least it was supposed to be, right?

“That’s it? I guess it _is_ an answer, so that’s technically enough...” Ouma’s lip twitched. “Prolly a smart answer for this situation~ But I was hoping for something less flip-floppy, y’know? I’ll give it a 30 out of 100. Maybe a 35, since I’m feeling nice today. Plus… I think I learned a little bit about you. Cracked open your brain a little, so to speak.”

_I didn’t know this was graded…_

“What a bummer. I used my question on a totally lame response… it’s your turn then.” The leader said, rolling his eyes dramatically. “Enjoy your ill-gotten gains. I pick dare, by the way.”

Saihara hadn’t expected Ouma to pick truth, but he was still taken off guard by the sudden choice. He was at a clear disadvantage; Ouma obviously had experience, and the easy way he'd pulled that question out of thin air made Saihara suspect Ouma had prepared these questions beforehand. But that idea seemed ridiculous, so Saihara quickly dismissed it- or most of it, anyway. He couldn't fight the nagging feeling it was something Ouma had wanted to ask for a long time.

“I dare you to… um…” He didn’t want to hurt Ouma or even embarrass him, but he could just imagine the disapproving look on Ouma’s face if he picked something uninteresting. “You can’t antagonize Momota or Kiibo for the rest of the day. No pranks, no calling Kiibo a microwave anymore. He’s sensitive.”

“There’s gotta be a consequence!” Ouma said, puffing out his cheeks. This, along with his naturally spiked hair, had the effect of making him look a little like a purple blowfish. “Otherwise it’s not fun!” 

“Um, if you annoy them, you have to handwrite an apology letter.”

“Ewwww, this dare comes with homework?”

“If you fail it, it comes with homework, yes.” _You’re the one who asked for consequences…_ “A-Anyways, I’ll take… truth again?”

“Really? How boring. This is gonna become a game of truth or truth...” Saihara winced; he hadn’t forgotten about Ouma’s promise to provide an embarrassing dare. Just that possibility kept him from taking the plunge. He wasn’t sure he could bank on Ouma forgetting his promise, either. Underneath his occasionally aggravating and carefree behavior, it was clear he had an insightful and sharp mind. Maybe that was why Saihara kept speaking to Ouma when the others had dismissed him, keeping an acquaintanceship- however guarded- with him when the rest ostracized him. 

“Hm… Using your detectively instincts, who do you think is most likely to be the ringleader?”

Saihara froze. Last time he’d shared a private hunch with someone, they had end up dead, dangling from the end of a noose, exposed as a murderer by his hand. When he closed his eyes, he could still see her expression of panic, her face turning a sickly shade of blue as she struggled to breathe, and it was all his fault-

“You can’t say no, remember?” 

Ouma’s singsong voice snapped him back to the dining room, at least partially. The table seemed to swim before his eyes, and his hands were shaking, palms damp with a sheen of sweat, but he was back to the present, at least. Right. He’d been asked a question. His mouth felt like sandpaper, and he wasn’t sure he could speak, but somehow his voice came out in a low croak.

“It’s easier to say who I don’t suspect. I know everyone suspects her, but I don’t think that… Well… Just because Harukawa is an assassin, that doesn’t mean she’s the mastermind.”

“Oh?” Ouma propped his chin on his hands, expression cherubic and inquisitive. “What makes you say that? Did Momota-chan rub off on you that much during your investigation?”

“Well, she…” Saihara said, and swallowed, collecting his thoughts. “If she was the one who put us here, why would she have her own talent lab be so self-incriminating? Besides, why would she come up with an elaborate killing game if she’s an assassin? It’s less concrete, but I can’t see Angie either… If her end goal is for us all to join her student council and worship Atua, she wouldn’t do something so-”

Ouma was staring at him. 

“Did I say something wrong?”

“That was…” Ouma blinked his violet eyes a few times, his expression mildly stunned. Then, unexpectedly, he burst into laughter. “Wowee! It was like I was in a real detective show for a second there! I feel like you were totally just about to point at someone and yell ‘only one truth prevails!’ or 'OBJECTION' or something!”

Saihara felt heat spread across his face and creep down his neck. He was sure his face was turning a lovely shade of red that would make a tomato jealous. 

“Don’t let me stop you!” Ouma suppressed a giggle. “I reaaaaally wanted to hear your thoughts, but I guess if you’re gonna be weird and dodgy about it… It can’t be helped… Saihara-chan is so mean, not letting me in on something that affects me directly…”

“I really don’t know at this point. Hunches and instinct are important, but… This is a situation where blindly accusing people isn’t smart. My uncle always drilled into me that there was a lot of waiting in detective work that TV doesn’t show.” 

“Ooh, spoken like a pro! Clap clap clap~” Ouma giggled again, and Saihara tried not to feel resentful. This was just how Ouma… was. He pushed people’s buttons. Literally, in Kiibo’s case. That had been an awkward dinner. “Alright, you’re off the hook, mostly because that was such a cool couple of lines there.”

“Oh, it’s my turn, then. Truth or dare?”

“I’ll pick truth!”

The words took a few seconds to sink in. Ouma’s expression was so cheerful, so innocent, that the gravitas of what he was saying hit Saihara like a time bomb. 

“Nishishi, are you surprised? I’ll give you one entirely truthful answer. I only do this once every ten years, so you’re beyond lucky to even see it, let alone participate in it!”

“Are-”

Are you really the leader of a secret organization? What do you know about this game that I don’t? Why do you seem so interested in me? His lips couldn’t form a question. Yumeno often boasted about her silencing spells, but Saihara was truly speechless. But even then, that wasn’t the most apt comparison. He knew he was perfectly capable of speaking, but his mind- or maybe his heart- wouldn’t let the words leave his mouth. In the pregnant silence, the blood rushed in his ears in a deafening crescendo.

“Why do you lie so often?”

There. That was safe enough.

Ouma’s smile disappeared.

“What a boring question. I’m disappointed, Saihara-chan.” Ouma heaved a theatrical sigh and crossed his arms. “I’ve told you before, but you apparently forgot… Half my lies are told with good intentions, you know. Also, it makes this game so much more interesting. Where’s the fun in playing a game that’s straightforward?”

“I-” The overwhelming feeling that he’d made a mistake rose in Saihara’s gut. No, that wasn’t quite right. It was like he’d missed an irreplaceable opportunity, like he’d let something slip from his grasp. 

But before he could say something, anything, to try in vain to remedy the situation, Ouma was up out of his seat in one quick motion, headed towards the door.

“That was an okay way to kill time. Better than sticking magnets to Kiiboy, at least. I was running out of them, anyway.” 

Ouma stopped suddenly, his open hand resting on the doorframe. From Saihara’s seat, he peered at the other male. For the first time, Saihara noticed how thin Ouma’s hands were, how delicate the fingers looked against the metal. His tattered uniform seemed baggy on him, like someone playing dress-up in clothes made for another, much different person. 

“You know, even I don’t lie to myself.” An unreadable smile flicked on his face as he turned his head. “You want to seek the truth, but you still back away at the last second. You’ve come so far, but you keep panicking. You’re still scared to face the truth head on.”

With that said, Ouma left, leaving Saihara reeling in the aftermath of their little game. The entire event had been so abrupt, so surreal, that he wondered if the conversation would evaporate from both their minds like a dream in the morning. 

But something told him that it wouldn’t. It couldn’t, no matter how hard they tried.

He vaguely wondered why a game had made his very being feel so melancholy.


End file.
